


Babe

by caramelcoastal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Crying, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, McCree has some deeprooted issues, McHanzo - Freeform, Opening Up, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Sacrifice, and Hanzo cares about said issues, request, the boy needs validation, these two nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7952326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcoastal/pseuds/caramelcoastal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting shot by a Talon grunt protecting his fairly distant and reserved boyfriend, McCree, Hanzo and he have a talk on the porch of an abandoned cabin while his wounds are tended to. Because to Jesse, it is easier to hold someone at an arm's length than let them in. Because if they can come in, they can hurt you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babe

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request made by padomey on tumblr. The request is as follows: "i love that youre taking requests! heres a corny one: hanzo and mccree: first time they say 'i love you'". I hope it turned out as you wanted it to, padomey!

Tenderly, the cowboy’s hands cleansed the ex-yakuza’s grizzly wound with alcohol. Despite the fact that every fiber of Jesse’s body was telling him to hug Hanzo and tell him how scared he was of losing him, he bottled up everything he had to say. Gruff, distant, and reserved was the only way to be. His boyfriend was fine, he just needed to get cleaned up and they could be on their way. 

The light of the many fire flies bathed the two men as they tended to the smaller one’s injury on the porch of an abandoned cabin. Neither of them had anything they were willing to admit to each other, not yet. There was hundreds of things buzzing through the mind of Jesse McCree, but opening up would expose him. If he was exposed, he was weak. And if he was weak, he could feel pain. That was the last thing he wanted feel, especially at the hands of Hanzo.

The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. What a damn fool, that Hanzo Shimada. It was Jesse who had missed his shot when trying to kill the Talon grunt. Missed his shot, and had to reload. It was his fuck up. There was no reason to look so scared when the grunt lifted the barrel of her gun. They’d dealt with hundreds of these assholes before. Even if they shot, they almost always miss. 

This one was different, though. Maybe it was the look in her eye or how quick she aimed, but Jesse froze. Once again, his fuck up. Not Shimada’s. When she shot, it was right for the idiot fumbling around with his bullets. It was his fuck up for not moving or ducking as a bullet whizzed right for his big, dumb forehead. Everything after that was a blur, for the most part. Except for two brief moments in time.

One was the sweet smell of soap, pine needles, and comfort cascading off of Shimada as he tackled him to the ground to prevent his brains from being blown out all over the rock behind them. The warmth, the touch of another human being, especially his touch. It was relieving, like ice lollies on a hot day or the smell of wildflowers in a nice open field. It was the creaking of a nice old house as it settled, because you knew it was safe and comfortable and you didn’t have to go anywhere. As annoying as it was, it was all you could think about when you pictured ‘home’.

That was Hanzo Shimada to him. He was home. The man kept him up at night with worry, with curiosity, with lust, with emotions he couldn't put into words because they only danced on his tongue once, briefly, in a dream. Ever since he had met this man, his life had been turned completely upside down, and every waking moments felt like the best fever dream he’d ever had. The fact that they were partners, the constant glancing, knowing he only slept a few feet away from this man, and the kisses they shared, once or twice, or ten times. It all drove him mad.

The other part he remembered was the metallic tang of blood as it dropped onto his face and into his gawking mouth because Hanzo had taken the bullet right in his shoulder, while the Talon grunt had fled. It was all so fast and blurry after that. He scanned the area, picked up his wounded comrade, and hightailed it out of there. 

Now, usually, Jesse would search for the bastard who shot his friend and knock their skull in, but he couldn't really do that. It would endanger Shimada, and there had already been enough poor decisions made that day. He wasn't done with that grunt, though. Jesse would find her, and make sure she paid the price for hurting someone as important to him as Hanzo. 

Hanzo made a cringing noise, dragging McCree back into the moment, where he just pressed into his wound way too hard. Finally, he broke the dead air in the only way he knew how: anger.

“Shimada you never do stupid shit like that little stunt back there, what were you even thinking? You could’ve been shot somewhere way worse than your shoulder. That was reckless, and stupid,” Usually, it was Hanzo giving him a talk like this, not the other way around. But, today was different.

“Don't patronize me, McCree,” was all he had to say as he got scolded. That just made McCree angrier. Did Hanzo not even care that he almost got killed? Did he even know what kind of grief Jesse would have to live with? He swallowed a hard lump in his throat, and licked his dry lips. 

“You should have just let me get shot. Or yanked me down, or you could have shot! You didn't have to take that for me, Hanzo, you're not built like Reinhardt, Roadhog, or Zarya. You can't take a bullet and then brush it off like nothing,” McCree felt himself nearing tears as he swallowed another lump in his throat. He didn’t even want to imagine his partner getting shot and killed by some pathetic goon. 

“I would never let you get shot, Jesse, and you know that. Of course, not that you seem to care by the way you are speaking to me,” Hanzo would have never done something like that if it was trash boy, or the pretty little British girl. But Jesse McCree was so much more to him than a teammate. He could see in his eyes, he was absolutely furious with him for doing that. He looked down, and sighed. This man was such a complicated mess, and blessing all in one. How could he actually expect him to just watch as he got shot and killed?

McCree stayed quiet, but inside of his head there was a brutal war going on, and evidence of such started slipping through the cracks. His facade was crumbling, and he knew it. His hands began to tremble, it was getting much harder for him to stay calm as scenarios of what could have happened played out in his mind. They were each his own tortuous short films, and he hated them. Despite his greatest effort, any attempt to stay calm began to disappear as his composure was whittled away. Any attempt to fight back tears or keep his lip from quivering failed. 

“If I let you get shot knowing I could have done something, it would eat me alive,” Hanzo began, putting his warm touch against the cowboy’s cheek. There was a sizzle in his stomach, and a pounding in his head. The blood-soaked rag he was using to dab his boyfriend’s shoulder with slipped through his fingers. Jesse was about to break down in front of the only man he had ever truly given a shit about, and he knew it. His hand shot up quickly to cover his mouth, so that he didn’t say something regrettable. He smelled the pungent stench of blood and alcohol.

Hanzo reached forward and held him close, despite how much it hurt him to move his arm, and his warm embrace shot McCree over the edge. The sizzle turned to a boiling, tearing up his insides and making him want to laugh, scream, and cry at the same time. The pounding became crashing, and banging, and the sound of a church choir. It was all so indescribable, so foreign to him. Was this guilt? Was this remorse? Hatred? Fear? He couldn’t fight the lump in his throat anymore as his eyes began to drip. It was like turning on a faucet; once he started, he couldn’t stop. His two usually sturdy knees buckled over, causing him to collapse into Hanzo as he sobbed. The sounds of nature around the two almost seemed go silent immediately, and the lightning bugs glowed bright as ever.

“I d-don’t want you to think I don't care. Please, please don't believe I don't care. I do care, I care a lot. If I lost you, Hanzo, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. You’ve torn me up in ways I can’t even describe. Jesus, what have you done to me?!” Every word poured out of him, and a great pressure lifted off his shoulders and chest. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo tried to begin, but was quickly cut off.

“What are we? I call you my partner, m-my romantic partner. We’ve kissed, and held hands, but I hold you so distant. Why can’t I just let you in? I want to let you in, I really, really do,” He sniffed loudly, wiping his badly running nose all over his right arm. Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. 

“Jesse,” For the second time, the ex-yakuza tried to talk, and was swiftly shut up again.

“I’ve never been like this before. In my dreams, I wake up to you. We’re together, and you let me hold you close until we had to go.. That is, when I actually get to sleep. Last night was the fourth night now that you’ve kept me up at night with thoughts I won’t even describe right now. It ain’t humane, or right. It’s all just nasty torture,” Before he could continue, two big strong hands cupped his face gently and pulled him in for a kiss. It was awkward, given the amount of tears and snot on one of their faces, but that was irrelevant. There was something in that kiss that Jesse had been starved of for his whole life. It felt better than sex to him, for just a brief second. The mixing taste of green tea and tobacco created something entirely new, something gentle yet earth-shattering. 

Hanzo’s lips parted first, and he smiled gently at his boyfriend, who had finally stopped crying. He reached down with his hand, wiping his eyes in a nurturing way, as if to tell him ‘there’s no need to cry anymore’.

“Jesse, do you love me?” The way he put it was so smooth, simple, and clean. It was something the cowboy had spent months trying to put together, and now it finally clicked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” He stood, realizing how pathetic and compromising the position he had been in looked. 

“Then just say so. Say it so I can hear it,” He lifted the red-stained rag off the floor, swatting it a few times before pouring more of Jesse’s whiskey onto it and pressing it back into his wound. It hurt, but he needed it. 

“Alright,” Jesse took a moment, looking up at him and then quickly looking away. He licked his lips a couple of time and took a deep breath. “Hanzo Shimada, I love you,” His eyes nervously glanced up at Hanzo, needing some form of validation. The cold, distant, badass, cool cowboy had always just been a facade for a needy, unconfident kid who never really knew what he was doing, even if he acted like he did.

Much to his own heartbreak, the shorter man raised his eyebrow and gave a low, slight chuckle. He deserved this for letting him in, and opening up like that to someone. His shoulders slumped over, and he felt like crying again. His hand balled into a fist while he used his other to lower the hat as to not be seen. This was all so stupid, just a general waste of his time.

Hanzo hadn’t meant to hurt him, he thought it was cute. Realizing it was probably not the reaction he was looking for, he knew he had to do something. Suddenly, with his one good arm, Hanzo scooped McCree up and propped him up on his leg while leaning back against the wall for support. His lips gently showered him in kisses all over his jawline, forcing a giggle out, making him try and squeak a ‘stop it’ here and there. 

He buried his face in his neck, smiling. This man made the severe pain in his shoulder almost disappear, or in the least, become more tolerable. It was really, really hard for him to hold the two hundred pound man with one arm, but he tried his hardest.

It was all for him, after all.

“Oh, I love you too,” Hanzo gave one more kiss on the neck before his body gave out on him and he was forced to put his beloved down. He slid down the wall, weak and exhausted. It was clear that the wound needed actual medical attention.

This caught McCree’s eye, and he removed his poncho and wrapped it around Hanzo’s shoulder to stop the bleeding. It was bound tight, which made him wince, but was necessary. Though, the fact that it smelled like McCree didn’t hurt.

“Come on, babe, let me carry you back. I’m sure Doc could fix that right up,” Babe, was that what he was going to calm him? Was that an American thing? He could definitely get used to that, it was cute. Getting shot seemed to apparently be one of the best things that had happened to him in a while.

McCree lifted him up, bridal style, and carried him through the dark. They never did find that Talon grunt, she seemed to have gotten away. But, as he buried his face into the chest of the man he loved, Hanzo didn’t really care.


End file.
